


The Rivals

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Another Twelve Days of Christmas [8]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Mycroft Holmes generally takes the minimum time off over the Christmas period.  However, one year he has a change in routine.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvidology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvidology/gifts).



Mycroft Holmes was not inclined to celebrate Christmas.  If anything it could be said to interfere with the smooth running of his life, as he moved from his lodgings in Pall Mall to his office in Whitehall and from there to his club before crossing the road to return home.  Although many of the senior officials of Whitehall spent their Christmases in the country, Mycroft, whilst dutifully taking two days holiday at Christmas, would be present in his office on all the other days.

It was therefore of considerable surprise when, on 27th December, he failed to appear.  There was much speculation as to whether he had been taken ill and this was only doused when a note arrived, written in Mycroft Holmes’ distinctive hand, to say he was availing himself of the festive season to take a further two days holiday and would not return until the 29th.

There was plenty of conjecture by the more junior officials as to what had caused this change of routine, varying from the slightly whimsical thought he had finally found a lady and was wooing her by taking her to innumerable plays and pantomimes, to the rather more worrying abduction of a musical hall artiste and having his evil way with her.

The truth was completely different.

Most years Mycroft would spend Christmas Day at his club, where a suitably quiet but high class meal was provided for the members.   Later he would return to his rooms, partake of a brandy or two and retire to bed.  However, on this occasion Mycroft had been persuaded to go to Baker Street for part of Christmas Day.  He had refused the invitation for dinner, preferring to dine at his club as usual, but had instead taken a cab to join his brother and Dr Watson for the evening.

They had been discussing Christmases past and Sherlock Holmes had mentioned how his brother had always bested him at Flapdragon during their youth, but he was of the opinion the tables would now be turned.  Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow and Dr Watson, fascinated to see a glimpse of an earlier sibling rivalry, has suggested a rematch.

The brandy was poured into a bowl and the raisins were added before the brandy was set alight.  Watson consulted his pocket watch, announced “One, two, three, go,” and watched in amazement as the two brothers retrieved as many raisins as they could.  Even before Watson called “Stop!” they had collected every single one.  Mycroft’s pile of raisins was indeed bigger than that of his brother.  Watson looked from one to the other in astonishment.  It appeared battle lines had been drawn.

“A duel,” Sherlock demanded.

“Accepted,” Mycroft imperiously agreed.

“The time?”

“Three o’clock.  The place?”

“Here, at Baker Street.  Unless you believe this gives me an unfair advantage.”

“Not at all!  Your rooms will do admirably.”

By this point, Watson was growing alarmed.  The mere idea of the Holmes’ brothers pointing pistols at each other was concerning, and Mrs Hudson’s reaction to yet more bullet holes in the wall was unimaginable.

“And Watson can serve as our second.  I trust you have no objection.”

The doctor tried to intervene at this point, but Mycroft waved a hand in acknowledgement and said, “Weapon of choice?”

There was a pause as Sherlock considered, “Jackstraws.  Yours?”

“Tiddlywinks.”

Watson sat looking from Sherlock to Mycroft, wondering when he would wake up.

“Sherlock, I fear the good doctor is a little confused, will you explain to him or shall I?”

Sherlock smiled and turned to Watson.  “It’s quite simple.  For the next three days my brother and I will meet here daily at three o’clock to spend one hour competing to see who is the better at various pastimes.  You have heard our first two choices.  It is up to you to nominate the third.”

The thought of Mycroft playing hop scotch appealed to Watson’s imagination, but he felt it would be a little hard on Mrs Hudson to have her ceiling reverberating as they played.  With both Holmes’ brothers waiting expectantly, Watson found it difficult to think of a single suitable game.  In the end he blurted out “Snakes and Ladders,” thinking a game of pure chance would be the safest solution.

Sherlock smiled.  “And no longer will you be able to cheat without being caught, dear brother.”

Mycroft smiled back.  “Ever the innocent, brother.”

 


End file.
